Vinyl Night.
The Usual Suspects and others have been in their basements today digging out their old albums and 45 records, because tonight we are doing our first “Vinyl Night†at the Post Bar. Earlier today I picked through the couple hundred albums I have stored away in the basement to find ones that contain songs that people are not likely to have on CD. Among them are albums by: Lloyd Price, Steppenwolf, Paul Revere and the Raiders, and Little Richard. I am also bringing a box of 45’s that I played hell out of when I was in high school. There are some gems in that box, as well as some “What-the-hell-was-I-thinking-about†stinkers.
We set up three turntables and some kick-ass speakers, and Paulie’s brother, Willie (he deserves his own post), has volunteered to spin the “Stax o’ Wax.â€
The food will be classic Jersey fare – pizza and subs (They would be “hoagies,” “heroes,” or – heaven forbid – “grinders” for you folks who are not from here). The bar will be open, and we even moved the pool table to make a bit of a dance floor.
I intend to have a few cocktails, enjoy all the tunes, scratches, pops and all, and I might even take to the dance floor.
It should be fun, and the Post will make a few badly-needed bucks.
Update: Vinyl Night was a huge success. The music was great to hear, and watching it come from those three turntables was something I hadn’t seen in quite some time.
Unfortunately, this morning’s headache, fatigue and general malaise serves to remind me that I proably enjoyed Vinyl Night a tad too much. It is even more unfortunate that I have to drag my weary ass back to the Post today, as it is my turn to tend bar.
It could be a long day.
PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, Do not equate a grinder with a real honest to God Jersey Sub. As we both know, a sub is a marvelous creation, thick with meats and cheeses. Accented with a bit of fresh shredded letuce, some thin sliced onions and tomatoes. and finally complemented with just the right tang of oil and vinegar (or Thousand Island on some specials), nestled between two perfectly baked halves of an Italian loaf.
A grinder as I found out to my utter horror when I was banished to Connecticut is ONE LOUSY LAYER of meat and cheese between two mushy halves of a loaf of mutant hot dog bun and enough lettuce that you would think it was the faroukin state crop.
I live in Denver now, and thankfully there is a place to get a real sub and a real pizza. (The owner/cook is from the Bronx, but his lovely wife and hostess is a real Jersey Girl, the accent brightens my day as I walk through the door). Now we just need to find someone who can make a Hard Roll so I ccan get a decent breakfast.
Comment by Mark Reardon — February 23, 2004 @ 12:31 pm
The first time I had ever seen the term “grinders” was on signs outside small stores in Massachusetts, near Cape Cod. I had assumed that “grinders” were some kind of bait.
Comment by Jim - Parkway Rest Stop — February 23, 2004 @ 8:29 pm